Godric's Hollow
by waterlily55
Summary: Harry Potter version of "Mansfield Park" by Jane Austen.


**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or Mansfield Park, this is just something resulting from my own fancy. Similar to "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" this story is meant to take the original universe of Jane Austen and add elements of another, in this case J.K. Rowling's wizarding world. Much of the text is originally Jane Austen's and will be mostly for the first few chapters as characters and settings are set up.**

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About thirty years ago Miss Lily Evans, of Huntingdon, a modest witch with only the distinction of "half-blood" to her name, had the good luck to captivate Sir James Potter, of Godric's Hollow, in the county of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the highest circles of wizarding society, with all the comforts and consequences of a handsome house and large income. All Huntingdon exclaimed on the greatness of the match, and her uncle, a worker in the lower offices of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, allowed her to be at least three generations of wizard removed of any equitable claim to it. She had one sister to be benefited by her elevation; and such of their acquaintance as thought Miss Petunia quite as handsome as Miss Lily, did not scruple to predict their marrying with almost equal advantage. But this was before it was discovered that Miss Petunia Evans was a squib.

Gone seemed any chance of a supportable marriage, however at the end of half a dozen years, she found herself obliged to be attached to the apothecary Mr. Dursley, a squib himself living in the neighborhood. Miss Petunia's match, indeed, when it came to the point, was not contemptible: Sir James being happily able to set his friend up in a suitable business in the neighborhood; and Mr. and Mrs. Dursley began their career of conjugal felicity with very little less than a thousand a year. As the years went by James and Lily Potter built a respectable family in the neighborhood and Petunia made herself indispensible in helping to run the household, to the point that she was a visitor almost every day. However, at the end of eleven years many families in the neighborhood started to exclaim at the amount of orphans left as a result of the Great War with "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" and all fashionable society declared that "something must be done for them." It was in this way that Petunia happened to suggest a response to an advert in the Daily Prophet that called for the adoption of muggle-borns.

"What if they were among them to undertake the care of a little girl, now nine years old, of an age to require more attention than those around her could possibly give? The trouble and expense of it to them would be nothing, compared with the benevolence of the action." Lady Potter agreed with her instantly. "I think we cannot do better," said she; "let us send for the child."

Sir James could not give so instantaneous and unqualified a consent. He debated and hesitated—it was a serious charge—a girl so brought up must be adequately provided for, or there would be cruelty instead of kindness in taking her from the orphanage. He thought of his own four children, of his two sons, of wards falling in love with children of the family, etc.—but no sooner had he deliberately begun to state his objections, than Mrs. Dursley interrupted him with a reply to them all, whether stated or not.

"My dear Sir James, I perfectly comprehend you, and do justice to the generosity and delicacy of your notions, which indeed are quite of a piece with your general conduct; and I entirely agree with you in the main as to the propriety of doing everything one could by way of providing for a child one had in a manner taken into one's own hands; and I am sure I should be the last person in the world to withhold my mite upon such an occasion. Having no children of my own, who should I look to in any little matter I may ever have to bestow, but this child of unfortunate circumstances?—and I am sure Mr. Dursley is too just—but you know I am a woman of few words and professions. Do not let us be frightened from a good deed by a trifle. Give a girl an education, send her to Hogwarts, and introduce her properly into the world, and ten to one but she has the means of settling well on her own, without farther expense to anybody. A ward of ours, Sir James, I may say, or at least of _yours, _would not grow up in this neighborhood without many advantages. I don't say she would be so handsome as our girls. I dare say she would not; but she would be introduced into the society of this country under such very favorable circumstances as, in all human probability, would get her a creditable establishment. You are thinking of your sons—but do you know that, of all things upon earth, _that_ is the least likely to happen, brought up as they would be, always together like brothers and sisters? It is morally impossible. I never knew an instance of it. It is, in fact, the surest way of providing against such a connection. Suppose Draco and Harry were to see an orphaned muggle-born girl of humble origin seven years hence, and her being pretty, I dare say there would be mischief. The very idea of her having been suffered to grow up at a distance from all of their society in poverty and neglect, would be enough to make either of the dear, sweet-tempered boys in love with her. But breed her up with them from this time, and suppose her, or anyone like her to even have the beauty of an angel, and they will never feel a regard as a result of guilt of tender feelings."

"There is a great deal of truth in what you say," replied Sir James, "and far be it from me to throw any fanciful impediment in the way of a plan which would be so consistent with the relative situations of each. I only meant to observe that it ought not to be lightly engaged in, and that to make it really serviceable to the girl, and creditable to ourselves, we must secure the child, or consider ourselves engaged to secure her hereafter, as circumstances may arise, the provision of a gentlewitch, if no such establishment should offer as you are so sanguine in expecting."

"I thoroughly understand you," cried Mrs. Dursley, "you are everything that is generous and considerate, and I am sure we shall never disagree on this point. Whatever I can do, as you well know, I am always ready enough to do for the good of those I love; and, though I could never feel for this little girl the hundredth part of the regard I bear your own dear children, nor consider her, in any respect, so much my own, I should hate myself if I were capable of neglecting her. Is she not a disadvantaged child? and could I bear to see her want while I had a bit of bread to give her? My dear Sir James, with all my faults I have a warm heart; and, poor as I am, would rather deny myself the necessaries of life than do an ungenerous thing. So, if you are not against it, I will write to the orphanage tomorrow, and make the proposal; and, as soon as matters are settled, _I_ will engage to get the child to Godric's Hollow; _you_ shall have no trouble about it. My own trouble, you know, I never regard. I will send Nanny to London on purpose; and she may have a bed at her cousin the saddler's, and the child be appointed to meet her there. They may easily get her from London to town by floo powder, under the care of any creditable person that may chance to be going. I dare say there is always some reputable tradesman's wife or other going up."

Except to the attack on Nanny's cousin, Sir James no longer made any objection, and a more respectable, though less economical rendezvous being accordingly substituted, everything was considered as settled, and the pleasures of so benevolent a scheme were already enjoyed. The division of gratifying sensations ought not, in strict justice, to have been equal; for Sir James was fully resolved to be the real and consistent patron of the selected child, and Mrs. Dursley had not the least intention of being at any expense whatever in her maintenance. As far as walking, talking, and contriving reached, she was thoroughly benevolent, and nobody knew better how to dictate liberality to others, but her love of money was equal to her love of directing, and she knew quite as well how to save her own as to spend that of her friends. Having married on a narrower income than even she had been used to look forward to, she had, from the first, fancied a very strict line of economy necessary; and what was begun as a matter of prudence, soon grew into a matter of choice, as an object of that needful solicitude which there were no children to supply. Had there been a family to provide for, Mrs. Dursley might never have saved her money; but having no care of that kind, there was nothing to impede her frugality, or lessen the comfort of making a yearly addition to an income which they had never lived up to. Under this infatuating principle, counteracted by no real affection for her sister, it was impossible for her to aim at more than the credit of projecting and arranging so expensive a charity; though perhaps she might so little know herself as to walk home to the Apothecary, after this conversation, in the happy belief of being the most liberal-minded woman in the world.

When the subject was brought forward again, her views were more fully explained; and, in reply to Lady Potter's calm inquiry of "Where shall the child come to first, sister, to you or to us?" Sir James heard with some surprise that it would be totally out of Mrs. Norris's power to take any share in the personal charge of her. He had been considering her as a particularly welcome addition at the Apothecary, as a desirable companion to a woman who had no children of her own; but he found himself wholly mistaken. Mrs. Dursley was sorry to say that the little girl's staying with them, at least as things then were, was quite out of the question. Poor Mr. Dursely's indifferent state of health mad it an impossibility: he could no more bear the noise of a child than he could fly; if, indeed, he should ever get well of his gouty complaints, it would be a different matter: she should then be glad to take her turn, and think nothing of the inconvenience; but just now, poor Mr. Norris took up every moment of her time, and the very mention of such a thing she was sure would distract him.

"Then she had better come to us," said Lady Potter, with the utmost composure. After a short pause Sir James added with dignity, "Yes, let her home be in this house. We will endeavor to do our duty by her, and she will, at least, have the advantage of companions of her own age."

"Very true," cried Mrs. Dursley, "a very important consideration. I only wish I could be more useful; but you see I do all in my power. I am not one of those that spare their own trouble; and Nanny shall fetch her, however it may put me to inconvenience to have my chief counselor away for a day. I suppose, sister, you will put the child in the little white attic, near the old nurseries. It will be much the best place for her, not far from the girls, and close by the house-elves, for I suppose you would think it fair to expect Winky to wait on her as well as the others. Indeed, I do not see that you could possibly place her anywhere else."  
Lady Potter made no opposition.

"I hope she will prove a well-disposed girl," continued Mrs. Dursley, "and be sensible of her uncommon good fortune in having such friends."

"Should her disposition be really bad," sad Sir James, "we must not, for our own children's sake, continue her in the family; but there is no reason to expect so great an evil. We shall probably see much to wish altered in her, and must prepare ourselves for gross ignorance, some meanness of opinions, and very distressing vulgarity of manner; but these are not incurable faults; nor, I trust, can they be dangerous for her associates. Had my daughters been _younger_ than herself, I should have considered the introduction of such a companion as a matter of very serious moment; but, as it is, I hope there can be nothing to fear for _them_, and everything to hope for _her_, from the association."

"That is exactly what I think," cried Mrs. Dursley, "and what I was saying to my husband this morning. It will be an education for the child, said I, only being with the girls; if Hogwarts taught her nothing, she would learn to be a good and clever witch from _them_."

"There will be some difficulty in our way, Mrs. Dudley," observed Sir James, "as to the distinction proper to made between the girls as they grow up: how to preserve in the minds of my _daughters_ the consciousness of what they are, without making them think too lowly of their adopted sibling; and how, without depressing her spirits too far, to make her remember that she is not a _Miss Potter_. I should wish to see them very good friends, and would, on no account, authorize in my girls the smallest degree of arrogance towards her; but still they cannot be equals. Their ranks, fortune, rights, expectations, and blood status will always be different. It is a point of great delicacy, and you must assist us in our endeavors to choose exactly the right line of conduct."

Mrs. Dursley was quite at his service; and though she perfectly agreed with him as to its being a most difficult thing, encouraged him to hope that between them it would be easily managed.

It will be readily believed that Mrs. Dursley did not write to the orphanage in vain. They assured Mrs. Dursley that the girl was very well-disposed and good-humored, and trusted they would never have cause to throw her off. She spoke of her farther as somewhat delicate and small, but was sanguine in the hope of her being materially better for change of air and society.


End file.
